


I'll Stay, I guess.

by ciely



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Episode: The Abominable Bride, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 09:32:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7217053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ciely/pseuds/ciely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Sherlock wasn't on that plane alone? A part of his hallucination he would never reveal to anybody.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Stay, I guess.

You couldn't believe the set of events that had placed you in Sherlock Holmes' path. Really, you couldn't. You've known Sherlock before John, before Adler, before Moriarty.You were a creature that existed outside of the realm of Sherlock Holmes, the man in the hat, the man of deductions. Although deductions were always his things.

 

You were his secret, you were Redbeard resurrected. Even his brother Mycroft didn't know.

 

You were someone, you were someone he held _sentiment_ towards.

 

Although he wouldn't call it that. He wouldn't call _it_ that.

 

*****

 

John, Mary, and Mycroft watched as the plane began to crawl forward. They had said there goodbyes to the man who had recently said his last vow. Now they saw him off. But before aches of remorse or guilt could take their hearts time they were reminded that ghosts still exist in the world.

Ghosts still exist in the world.

 

*****

Sherlock had to figure it out. It had been cause for anxiety, it had been a distraction,it had become a source 'dare he say it' of doubt.

He took out a slip of paper, wrote a list, and begun to travel the depth of his mind.

*****

Sherlock felt the tension escape languidly from his joints. His head had become light, the tons of information that were organized within his mind had become as light as a feather, allowing him to find more comfort as he sifted through possibilities and observations and memories.

In between the time warp, in between the fuzzy clarity of reality, in between the Abominable Bride, away from Moriarty and conspiracy, he heard a voice.

"Sherlock," his name tumbled hazy to his ears.

"Remember what you told me, those many nights ago," the voice was feminine, it held a feeling to it Sherlock couldn't point out. He opened his eyes, his vision pixelated the figure in front of him.

"Mmaybe," the cocktail had slowed down his process enough to control his mind but enough to slur ever so slightly his voice.

The figure although blurred at the edges had become clearer. He stared at your face taking in the saintly hue his vision had conjured up.

You held a small smile to which he smirked at.

He then slipped into his alternate reality.

*****

You stared at Sherlock, the paper he had written his concoction on. You slipped it away from beneath his palm, dragging it towards yourself. Opening it up you took it in, you knew that Sherlock thought he had calculated it just enough to get to the edge of eternal.

You folded the paper carefully and stared across toward hummingbird eyes which had the shades pulled down, to the dark loops that had become messier, to the lips that had hummed into a curl.

You got up from where you sat next to him and bent over, touching your lips to his creme coloured ears.

You whispered, "I'll stay, I guess."

You slipped your hand into his jacket , slipping the sheet of white paper into his pocket. As you pulled your hand back you placed your hand on his chest feeling his irregualr heart beat. 

You sighed and sat back in your seat across from him and watched, careful not to move too much.

You observed.

****

John, Mary, and Mycroft had made it back to the plane.

"Stop this! Just stop it! Did you make a list," Mycroft beckoned the piece of paper from his brother. The life line they had established those many night ago.

The night he had lost himself within his mind.

***

Your words hid underneath the layers of data that he had, creating a dim sting.

Somewhere in his head behind a locked away memory, a woman kisses a man. Behind the warm spice of the kiss she whispers, "I'll stay, I guess."

She was there, even in his hallucinations, she was there although he didn't know, influencing his persona. Giving him clues and adding the mix of feminism into his episode.

Sherlock kept trying to figure out the problem. While you watched over him, like you've always have.

The trio stared at the man who had slipped back into his mind.

****

You observed, you made sure he was okay.

You made sure he wouldn't go into the eternal.

Then you disappeared, like you did those many nights ago.

*****

The elder Holmes stared at his brother, worried.

When the memory of a scent brought up a figure he should never forget.

A figure he called Redbeard Resurrected.

His brother thought he didn't know, but long ago Sherlock tried to solve a case that almost killed him.

On that night long ago he dwelled so far into his mind he had found his heart and crushed it.

Mycroft would never forget her scent but he accounted it to the scarf that had probably lost its last particle of remembrance.

*****

You walked away after you had made sure he was still Sherlock, still alive.

 


End file.
